


Safe

by wucina



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Neurodivergent Byleth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, trauma™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wucina/pseuds/wucina
Summary: It's odd, what a tough life does to someone. One can stay stoic in the face of death, stubborn and emotionless while inches away from a bleeding neck, for years upon years, not thinking a single word of it, and then, one day, such a small thing can crack the entire shell in its entirety, and leave nothing but a sad little core that isn't sure how to do anything but cry.If someone were to tell that person, in between all the death they escape, that such a minuscule act would be their total undoing, they would laugh at you. They don't know how easy it is to chip off the one part of a foundation that matters, to make it all tumble down in an instant, because until it happens, it's like they're invincible.For Byleth, it was the knocking.••••••••••••••••••••What use is there in a woman who can only think in battles, when the war has long since passed?(A Modern AU)
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	Safe

_Knock, knock, knock._

It’s odd, what a tough life does to someone. One can stay stoic in the face of death, stubborn and emotionless while inches away from a bleeding neck, for years upon years, not thinking a single word of it, and then, one day, such a small thing can crack the entire shell in its entirety, and leave nothing but a sad little core that isn’t sure how to do anything but cry.

If someone were to tell that person, in between all the death they escape, that such a minuscule act would be their total undoing, they would laugh at you. They don’t know how easy it is to chip off the one part of a foundation that matters, to make it all tumble down in an instant, because until it happens, it’s like they’re invincible.

For Byleth, it was the knocking.

_Knock, knock, knock._

She forgot to lock the door again. She can’t lock it now, because there’s already someone at the door, and they would notice. With no other option that she can think of, her best bet is to stop moving, and hope that they assume nobody is home.

This is how she survives. It always has been.

Once upon a time, it was a useful skill for her. She had always been taught to find a way out under duress, her very way of living having hinged on scrambling for shelter and scrounging up a way to get food with the limited funds she had, all the while working midnight jobs and having to deal with blades at her throat when someone wants to steal the pittance she’d make from them. When Edelgard had ran away with her, it was only more of the same, finding an apartment with a single night’s notice, and taking it on the spot, so they could sleep on a surface that wasn’t the seats to a beaten-up Alto.

She’s had stalkers on her, she’s had people threatening El on the street and relatives trying to push her back into a business she never wanted to be a part of. They had hired private investigators on them, once, because they can’t imagine the possibility that a grown adult woman might just want to live a simple life, and not be raised into more generational wealth than any sane human being could ever require, so their only possible conclusion is that Byleth is secretly a mob boss.

Of course she needed to be like this. It had been proven, time and time again, that she must be wary of threats at all times, while looking for the best possible outcomes of survival. If she was successful, then she would be safe, and El would be safe.

Is what she’s been telling herself. As if she hasn’t been curled up into a blanket, on her couch, hungry, thirsty and aching in every muscle but terrified to move a hair, for the past hour. Truly, a mighty warrior, underneath her pyjamas that she relentlessly makes sure is clean and plush animals that she won’t touch if they’ve been on the ground, having been on the verge of tears the entire time she’s been praying the potential intruder away.

How this was the same woman who, in the middle of a storm, had successfully threatened a half dozen men to get out of her way while her face was bloodied and bruised, she has no idea.

She isn’t sure if they’re gone yet. There should have been an audible noise if they had, as nothing in this abode is exactly on sturdy wood, but because she had been in such a panic for the first few minutes it had happened, she wasn’t paying attention to that, being too focused on potential exit routes (there aren’t any, despite what the landlord says) or possible self defense options (she does not have the hand-eye coordination for any of them) or ways to talk them out of cutting her down (if any neurotypicals were willing to explain to her how to talk to strangers without coming off as threatening, she would love to know).

_Knock knock knock knock knock._

She’s pretty sure there’s still knocking, though, so it must not be the case. Maybe she’s just hearing things, though. She’s heard much sadder.

“Damn it, where did I leave the keys this time?”

Um. Actually, she’s hearing El, now.

“Byleth? Are you here?”

“Is there…” She croaks out a response. “Anyone else, with you?”

“I would have told you beforehand if I were to invite guests, my love.”

Byleth pauses.

“D-door’s unlocked.”

“Oh.” Edelgard sounds somewhat bashful. “Suppose I should have tried that in the first place, then.”

She opens up the door, revealing that there is not, in fact, a trained assassin in the apartment hallway. She takes a few steps forward, dropping her shoulder bag next to the shoe rack, her foot shoving a heavy cardboard box across the ground, and upon turning to see her beloved looking like a ghost, immediately runs over.

“My love? What happened?”

“There was… knocking.” Talking after this long hurts, as it turns out. “How long were you there?”

“Only a minute or so.” El starts to stroke her hair, calming down the shaking that she didn’t even notice was happening. “I assume you had been in this state for much longer.”

Byleth nods.

“Have I not told you that you can text me, if you feel like this?”

“Phone’s in the bedroom.” Her voice doesn’t wane in a neutral tone, even when it’s hoarse. “Going to the bedroom makes noise.”

“Noise is bad, in this case.”

Another nod. “Needed to be quiet, so they leave.”

“So they leave…”

El looks behind her, to the box.

“The delivery.”

Byleth tilts her head.

“There was a package at our doorstep.” She goes to kick at it, shoving it in the direction of the couch. “Seems your office chair arrived.”

It’s difficult to make out anything with how blurry her eyes have gotten, but on the top, she can make out a bit of branding.

_MX-RACER_  
_Fraldarius Ultra Edition_

“Oh.” Byleth frowns. “But the knocking was so loud.”

“That’s how delivery drivers are in a rush, I’m afraid.”

She blinks. “I see.”

The threat is gone. There is no more danger. This should be good, she thinks.

The tightness in her stomach isn’t leaving.

“My love?” Edelgard waves in front of her. “You’re staring off, again.”

“Can I ask you something, El?”

“I don’t recall that being something you needed permission for.”

Byleth blinks again.

“The answer is yes, to be clear.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She takes a big breath, feeling like it’s a question she can’t possibly feel afloat for.

“Why… am I like this?”

Byleth doesn’t consciously realize it, but she has already broken well past the point of crying. It isn’t something she’s used to, with nothing in her brain trained to make her aware of it when it happens, but El–perfect, responsible El–immediately takes notice, her fingertips brushing the tears away.

“My love.” Her voice is quiet, gentle. “Do you remember what I had told you, when we first met?”

Her head tilts once again, one of the few signals she knows how to make when it’s difficult to speak.

“I had told you how soft your eyes were.” El looks on, the only stare Byleth feels comes with no judgement. “How innocent they were, clashing with your demeanor. Even as the rest of you wouldn’t hesitate to get into a fight, your eyes yearned for a safety you didn’t know was possible.”

Her arms reach around, pulling the two in together, with Byleth’s head resting in the crook of her neck.

“You know what that safety is now–you have seen it for the both of us.” El’s still playing with her hair, with such care that all her thoughts start to melt. “So, now that you know how it feels, to return to what it was before is frightening, is it not?”

Byleth nods, still hiding.

“I understand why you are afraid, my love.” She quiets down to a whisper. “But we are safe. There is no more danger here.”

_Safe_. It’s a confusing word, to a girl who had never felt it before. Byleth would have never considered that it was something to be felt in the first place, but something to be objectively assessed, like how a food bank is a neutral zone that requires minimal conflict, or how a well-fortified room in a shelter could likely remain safe for at least a few minutes of trying to break and enter.

Edelgard is safe. Anywhere Edelgard is, is safe. Byleth knows this, not because of anything she could put into a strategy, but because Edelgard _feels_ safe.

Byleth’s mind calms, the oily scent of carnations that her beloved loves to wear making it so she could almost pass out from sheer bliss. To be honest, it’s entirely plausible she did, as El had left to take off her work clothes at some point, returning in pyjamas not unlike her own, and she hadn’t noticed it for a second, like she had never left this comfortable little crook of her neck.

“You are… intoxicating.”

Edelgard’s eyebrow raises in amusement. “Am I, now.”

“Very.” Byleth looks up at her, eyes hazy. “Feels like I would do anything for you.”

Her gaze strengthens, though it comes with a red blush. “Wording, my love.”

“Wording?” It takes a second for the gears to turn, but her cheeks burn just as bright. “Oh. Um. That too, I guess.”

**Author's Note:**

> modern au felix hugo fraldarius is an esports gamer. he plays fortnite, and he will get very mad if you laugh at him for playing fortnite. he's probably made like seven digits off fortnite alone. i am simply speaking the facts here
> 
> anyways hm feel like this is not the way most people identify with byleth,


End file.
